


Two Headed Boy, There’s No Reason To Grieve

by RockCandyPlanet



Category: Carmen Sandiego (Cartoon 2019)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, I blinked and this turned into 3k words, I guess!, It’s MY favorite mime and I get to choose the backstory to project onto him, Jewish Character, Jewish Headcanons, Not Beta Read, Origin Story, god i haven’t posted anything in over a year i forgot how to tag things, its relevant dont worry about it, jewish author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29102607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockCandyPlanet/pseuds/RockCandyPlanet
Summary: The world that you need is wrapped in gold silver sleeves.A look into the reason Mime Bomb started stealing and his transformation into what he is today.
Relationships: Mime Bomb & Carmen Sandiego | Black Sheep
Kudos: 12





	Two Headed Boy, There’s No Reason To Grieve

**Author's Note:**

> So...its been a while. I have no idea why but that entire year i basically wrote nothing and any thing i DID start I literally could not finish. But my friend got me into CS and I instantly got attached to Mime Bomb because I think he’s neat. So I decided it would be nice to write him a backstory/my perspective on him because i like him.
> 
> Title and description are from the song Two Headed Boy by Neutral Milk Hotel

Mime Bomb would never forget the first time he got his face painted. 

He was six years old, and it was at a Purim carnival. The kind of Purim carnival that was just a few game booths and a rented petting zoo in the parking lot of a synagogue (which was most Purim carnivals, really); but to the eventual mime, it was a place of wonder. He held his grandmother’s hand as they entered, and he was immediately drawn to a small plastic sign in front of a booth offering face paintings. The young boy tugged on his grandma’s hand to get her attention. 

“What do you need, bubele?” She had asked him, and he pointed her towards the face painting booth. “Is that what you want?” His grandmother asked, and he nodded in response. She smiled and brought him up to the booth, the little boy feeling lucky that he managed to get there without a line. 

The woman working at the booth was kind, but the boy shuffled in the stool awkwardly as she pulled out the laminated paper of the designs you could get. One design in particular immediately caught his eyes, Full white face paint besides from dark spiked circles around the eyes and red lips. He had no idea why, but the look of it captivated him, and he eagerly pointed to it. The face painter obliged, and once she was done and held up the hand mirror in front of him, the young boy’s face lit up with the kind of joy only children can achieve. He managed out a hushed “thank you” to her before he reattached himself to his grandmother. 

“Do you like how it looks?” She asked, and he beamed, nodding enthusiastically. His grandma hummed and brought him other to a booth of stacked milk bottles to knock down. 

“We had so much fun together that day!” His grandmother would say when retelling the story “oh _Yakov_ , one day when you grow up you should work for the circus!” 

Well, Mime Bomb sure did end up working for some kind of circus. 

***

Yakov had started stealing when he was eleven, after his mother had lost her job. She had been an office worker all his life, working nine to five to support her son. Nine to five turned into nine to six, then nine to seven, then nine to nine. His father had died before he was even old enough to have any memories of him, so poor little Yakov had been left in the dust up until then. He was glad at first to spend more time with her again, but he could tell how distraught his mother was about their situation despite her trying to hide it in front of him. So he decided he needed to take this into his own hands. 

It started with small things from his classmates, charm bracelets, shiny hair clips, small toys or trading cards, anything he could get his hands on. The people from the pawn shops didn't seem to care where it came from, or why a child was the one selling them. He got better with time, and his targets turned from his classmates to his teachers. Dropped earrings, trinkets that decorated classrooms, he even managed to swipe a ring that was placed carelessly on a desk (he made sure it wasn’t a wedding ring, though). He could tell his mother was embarrassed with the family’s new minor source of income while she tried to find a new job, but it’s not like she could refuse the money they so desperately needed. 

The problem was he couldn’t help to stop himself after his mother finally got a job again, he didn’t even go to the pawn shops anymore. It had become not about the need to survive, but for the thrill of it all. Yakov had always been incredibly shy, to the point he didn’t like speaking to anyone he wasn’t close with if he wasn’t forced to, and even then he usually kept to himself. Stealing made him feel...powerful, important even. 

By the time he was eighteen, Yakov had his routine down to a T. On Saturday nights he would take the bus down to the River Walk, streets lined with shops and glowing lights that shimmered like the moon in the reflection of the river running down the middle of each sidewalk. Busy streets filled with people too caught up in the experience to notice when a nice pair of sunglasses or a shiny bracelet slides off their dining table and into the redhead’s hands, and by the time they usually did notice he was already stepping onto the bus ride home. 

And when summer had come, Yakov had graduated from high school, leaving with straight B’s, although he had never quite gotten around to applying to any colleges. 

_“I’m just taking a gap year, that's all”_ he told his mother when she asked, he could tell she wasn’t happy, but it wasn’t like they could do anything about it now. He never planned to go to college at all, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her that.

Not even two weeks later, his life would change forever. 

He was doing his usual Saturday run down the River Walk when a particular woman caught his eye. Dark skinned and wearing a beautiful shimmering green dress, and absolutely coated in all kinds of jewelry. There were quite a few bejeweled rings placed off her fingers and onto the small table she sat at for his picking and he noticed a silk coin purse sticking out of her actual handbag as well. Yakov couldn’t help himself, he went over, quietly took two of the rings from the table and the coin purse, and carried off on his merry way. Well he did for about the first few minutes afterwards, but not too long after he started to feel...uneasy. Like he was being watched, like he was being _followed._

As he was crossing the bridge across the river, on the opposite side he saw two custodians picking up trash. He had no idea why, but just looking at them made him shudder. He got to the end of the bridge and held his breath as he fast-walked past them trying to get away as quickly as possible without being too noticeable. One of the men glared at him only slightly as Yakov passed by, and even with that he pursed his lips and tried to hide that he almost flinched. Despite going there weekly, he never saw the sanitation workers much, but these two felt out of place. Like they didn’t belong. 

Eventually Yakov made it out of the River Walk and back out at the normal sidewalks, he was about to turn the corner to get to his bus stop when a voice pierced the night air behind him. 

“I believe you have something that belongs to me, young man.” 

Yakov froze as he felt his heart drop into his stomach. He shakily turned around to see the woman in green walking towards him, the two custodian workers behind her, who were now holding their trash pokers in a very...menacing way. As soon as she got close enough to him he immediately took the bag he used to store his stolen rewards and handed over not only the things he took from her, but everything he had taken that night. Ten bracelets of varying metals, three pairs of designer sunglasses, four earrings all missing the other, and two rings aside from the ones he took from her. 

“My my...did you take all of these tonight?” She had asked, but her tone wasn’t one of anger, but amusement. Yakov nodded hurriedly in response, he wanted to run as fast as he could, but his body refused to move. “How long have you been doing this?” 

_“Oh uh, Seven years.”_ He whispered, afraid if he made a noise any louder they’d do something to him. 

The woman paused for a moment and looked up to smile at him. “What’s your name, young man?” 

Yakov then did something very impulsive, and very stupid. He couldn’t imagine trying to talk clearly in a situation like this, so he pulled out his wallet and handed her his driver’s license. She took it carefully and squinted to read it in the shade. 

“...Yakov Langerman?” She read off, he gulped and nodded in response, pointing to himself. “Given the birthday on this ID, you turned eighteen a few months ago, so you’ve most likely graduated. What college are you going to?” 

_“I...I….”_ Yakov stuttered out, barely a whisper. His feet shuffled slightly and in response one of the custodians jumped at him slightly, like a guard dog being held back by a chain. He squeaked in reaction, instinctively holding his arms in front of his face and closing his eyes. _“I’m not going!”_ He rushed out. 

The woman in green hummed and began mumbling to herself. _“He seems rather nervous during confrontation, but that can be fixed…”_ She seemingly pondered, Yakov opened one of his eyes and slowly lowered his arms to look at her. What was she talking about?

“Mr. Langerman, you may call me Countess Cleo,” the now named Countess handed him back his driver’s license and raised a hand to her chest. The smile on her face turned into a scheming smirk. “...and I have a _proposition_ for you…”

***

Yakov had told his mother that the acceptance letter to the one college he had applied to had gotten lost in the mail and finally was delivered to him, and he was being accepted with full scholarship. A quickly forged letter made by V.I.L.E was proof enough for his overjoyed mother though. He told her that it was all the way out in Europe, a vocational school. He “probably won’t be able to communicate a lot, and I’ll more likely than not end up staying there after I’m done.” His mother didn't seem to care, the only thing she said was she was proud of him. 

He never really interacted much with his classmates, obviously not preferring to talk with them much. They never approached him, and he didn’t sit with them in the lunch cafeteria and usually ended up sitting by himself. They were never very nice to him anyway. 

“Hey its uh...Yakov right?” 

The redhead looked up to see Black Sheep standing in front of him, holding a tray of cafeteria food. Despite being about two years younger than him, she had lived at V.I.L.E her entire life, and was at the very top of their classes. He nodded when she had asked about his name. 

“Do you mind if I sit here?” She held out her tray towards the table that was all but empty besides himself. Yakov shook his head and shuffled over to give the girl a spot to sit, he didn’t look at her directly though, slightly hiding his face behind his hair. He had had far too many experiences growing up where another kid would come up to try and talk to that weird quiet kid who sat by himself while all their friends laughed at him only a bit away. But when he looked up, the others paid neither of them any attention, lost in conversation at their own table. 

“You did really good in Upper Class Evil today, by the way.” Black Sheep told him, Yakov’s head perked up to look at her. He’d been at V.I.L.E for a few weeks now, but as far as he could remember that was the first time someone other than one of the instructors had complimented him about anything during this time there. He even lifted up his hand to point at himself, as if to ask ‘ _me?’_

Black Sheep giggled, “Of course I’m talking about you! Who else would it be?” It seemed like her smile was infectious, as Black Sheep even managed to get a snicker out of Yakov. As soon as it happened, he saw her eyes light up as if that was her goal all along. “The way you found that one gold chain in that _huge_ pile of fakes? It wasn’t even tangled up in the others!” 

Yakov smiled bashfully at Black Sheep, his own way of saying “thank you” to her. His smile then faded as he looked over to the table where the rest of their classmates sat together, then looked back over at Black Sheep sitting next to him and cocked his head slightly in the direction of the other table. She was silent for a second, probably confused until she perked up when she realized what he meant. 

“...You wanna know why I’m sitting here today instead of with them like I usually do?” 

Yakov nodded. 

“Well you’re my classmate too right? One day we’re gonna be working together out on the field, I should get to know you just like the others.” 

He wasn’t sure why, but the way Black Sheep had said he was her classmate made him feel...better about himself. To Yakov, the way she said classmate meant _friend._

“Sooo….” Black Sheep rested her head on her hand and leaned on the table. “You wanna start by telling me where you’re from?” 

Yakov realized he probably wasn’t fully ready to start talking to her a lot yet, so he suddenly picked up a napkin from the table and started looking around for something to write with. Unconsciously holding his hand in a fist and moving his thumb up and down as if he was clicking a pen. 

Black Sheep made an “oh!” noise and Yakov stopped to look up at her. She pulled out a pencil that was tucked behind her ear, handing it over to the redhead. “Here, use this.” 

Yakov stopped for a second and blinked almost out of disbelief that she just happened to have that on her, but he graciously took the pencil and slowly began writing on the napkin, careful not to rip the delicate paper. Once he was done he handed it over to her. 

_‘San Antonio, Texas.’_

“Oh, San Antonio! That's where the uh…” Black Sheep stopped and snapped her fingers for a few seconds trying to call up the word. “ _The Alamo!_ That’s where the Alamo is, right?” 

The other nodded enthusiastically in response. 

“Okay, tell me _all_ about it…”

***

The more time he spent at V.I.L.E, the more confident in himself Yakov became. Every new success in a class or new lesson about stealing he was taught built him up. He even studied decoding and making up his own secret codes in his spare time between classes, something Yakov discovered he very much enjoyed doing, and was also very good at. 

He still kept to himself, but because that’s what he wanted. He stopped not talking because he was shy, but because he just...didn’t want to. There was the rare occasion Black Sheep would get a word or two out of him if she was extra nice to him, but at the very most he’d say a full sentence when talking to one of the instructors. Yakov especially liked when that happened, watching his classmates look around at each other from the corner of his eye, like they were making sure what they just heard was real. 

Finals were finally approaching, and it was finally time Yakov decided on his codename. It needed to be something special to him, something that he cared about. While doodling in one of his symbology journals, he had realized he’d drawn a character in mime face paint, and it all fell into place. 

Ever since that day at the carnival, Yakov had always had a passing interest in all kinds of clowns. Even on the day it happened six year old Yakov had to fight his grandmother to get the face paint washed off when they got home, locking himself in the bathroom for an hour until he only gave in because he was hungry. He didn’t talk about it much, even to his mother, it felt...embarrassing to admit it. Yakov couldn’t find the words why, he just didn’t want to explain to his mother a sudden new interest in clowns of all things. But it became a lifelong interest that never really went away. 

Yakov stood up and immediately made a B-line to the disguise department and asked if he could borrow a few things, mainly white face paint, a striped turtleneck, and a beret. He then slipped into a bathroom to put it all together, and when he stepped back from the mirror to see it in full, he really couldn’t find the words to describe the emotion he felt.

No more face imperfections, no more dark circles under his eyes unless he put them there himself, a clean slate painted on. He had even gotten his braces taken off a few weeks ago by a V.I.L.E affiliated dentist. It was like the feeling he got from stealing, the pure euphoria and thrill, but multiplied infinitely. It felt right. It felt like he was born to do this. 

The code name came to him easily after that, quick, catchy, and most importantly amusing. Mime Bomb smiled as he left the bathroom and carried out back into the hallway. Later on when he found out he had been one of that year’s forty thieves, he felt absolutely untouchable. 

Then he found out they had removed him from the first mission with the rest of the group. 

And his brand new world shattered before him. 

He was the _only_ one out of his graduating classmates to not go on that mission that night. Did the faculty not think he was capable enough? But if he wasn’t capable enough why did he graduate? The only class he had true difficulties with was Self Defense, and who needed fighting when you were quick on your feet? Did they not think he was loyal? Mime Bomb just couldn’t understand why. 

He had retreated into the old sewer pipes below the academy, probably the only place on the whole island that was truly one hundred percent private. But even there he felt like he had to restrain himself from crying, less he let his makeup run, because if he let his makeup run then it would be very obvious how hurt he was, and then the faculty would _never_ let a moment of weakness like that slide. 

Then further up from him, he saw another figure emerge from a side pipe and walk towards the sealed opening. It was Black Sheep, but why was Black Sheep..?

Black Sheep then grabbed the gate that sealed the pipes off as an entrance and began trying to push it open. 

_‘She’s trying to sneak out!’_ Mime Bomb thought. He didn’t move, he was far enough behind her where she wouldn’t see him if she looked behind her, but due to how sound traveled in the echoing pipes, she absolutely could notice if he made any kind of noise. He just watched her push open the old gate and hop out, none the wiser of the mime behind her. And a scheme began to brew in that same mime’s mind. 

If the faculty didn’t believe he was capable or strong or loyal or _whatever_ enough, then he’d show them. Mime Bomb immediately spun around to leave the pipes and go to the faculty board to tell them what he just saw. 

However, in his desperate crusade for validation, he seemingly forgot that Black Sheep was the first person at V.I.L.E to show him kindness. 

**Author's Note:**

> Purim is a jewish holiday thats usually some time in March-April thats celebrated by dressing up in costumes and having carnivals, it’s my favorite holiday personally. 
> 
> Bubule is a term used mostly by older Ashkenazi people that’s basically just an affectionate term they call younger family or just younger people. It’s pronounced “boo-boo-leh” 
> 
> I spent basically all of my very very young formative years growing up in San Antonio and I basically consider it my second home so I thought it would be funny to me and me only if I made MB from there. I haven’t lived there since I was 9 so I didn’t get too specific about anything though, just based it on what I remember.
> 
> Tumblr is Astralynx and Twitter is Cryptcasino


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